‘I cannot tell you how sorry I was to hear about Margery,’ she said softly. ‘It makes me glad I have retired from the world, because such a terrible thing should not happen to a saint.’
‘No,’ agreed Bartholomew. ‘I heard her tell Bonde to bring you a basket from the kitchen the day she died. She cared about you.’
‘It was a big one,’ said Anne, a catch in her voice, ‘containing all my favourite things. She never forgot her old nurse. I hope the fiend who killed her burns in Hell.’
‘I imagine he will.’
‘But what was she doing in the cistern with Roos in the first place?’ asked Anne, after a brief pause during which he heard a muffled sob and a quick wipe of the nose. ‘It is an odd place to go at any time, but especially at night. Or were they forced down there – at knifepoint, perhaps?’
‘I think they went willingly, although we have no idea how Roos got past the castle guards. Bonde was on the gate, but we cannot ask him about it, because he has left Clare.’
‘Roos probably paid him to look the other way,’ said Anne. ‘Marishal claims he runs a tight ship, but there are many who jump at the chance to earn easy money. Bonde is one of them. And of course he would not linger here to answer for it. He is not stupid.’
‘Do you think he has gone permanently?’
‘No – he likes being the Lady’s henchman, and she has rescued him from trouble before. He will be back. But you did not answer my question: why did they meet in the cistern? It is a terrible place, especially when it rains. The water gushes down from the roof, and it can flood in a flash.’
‘I thought the flow could be controlled by sluices and valves.’
‘It can, but how would a person opening taps on the roof know that there was someone in the basement below? It is a very dangerous business.’
Bartholomew moved to another subject. ‘You must have known Margery well, given that you were nursemaid to her children. Are you aware that she and Roos were related?’
‘Oh, I very much doubt that,’ stated Anne dismissively. ‘She was lovely, while I am told he was … not.’
‘Do you recall the ring she wore – the onyx one with the bird? Well, he had one exactly the same. He kept it on a string around his neck.’
Anne came to glare at him through the squint. ‘I hope you are not suggesting anything untoward. Perhaps they were kin – although she never mentioned him to me. However, even if you are right, there will have been nothing improper going on. She was an honourable lady. But speaking of lovers, do you have one? Yes, I think you do.’
‘What makes you say that?’
Anne smiled. ‘I am a wise-woman. I look into the souls of men and read their darkest secrets.’
‘Matilde is not a dark secret. We are to be married soon.’
‘Why? Is she with child? Do not wed her for that reason – it will lead to bitterness and disappointment, which will poison you both. She will have the worst of the arrangement, of course, saddled with a babe she does not want, as well as a useless husband. It is a pity there are laws forbidding women to decide for themselves what grows inside their bodies.’
‘The laws are there to prevent dangerous interventions,’ argued Bartholomew, although he was uncomfortable with the turn the discussion had taken, ‘which can kill the mother.’
‘Not if you know what you are doing. And as far as I am concerned, forcing women to have unwanted brats is yet another way for men to control us. No girl should bear a child if she does not want one – a child that may kill her by tearing her innards or leaving her with a fatal fever.’
‘Giving birth is a risky process,’ acknowledged Bartholomew soberly, racking his brains for a way to change the subject. ‘But–’
‘Risks men are not obliged to share, or the laws would be very different. It is brazen ignorance that makes them insist on a woman carrying a baby to full term, even when it is patently obvious that it is the wrong thing to do.’
‘Suzanne de Nekton,’ blurted Bartholomew, suddenly realising exactly why Anne was so passionate about the matter. ‘You tried to rid her of one and the procedure went wrong. How did you do it? With herbs?’
There was a person in Cambridge named Mistress Starre, who was quite open about the fact that she was a witch, and made a good living from her charms and remedies. One of her potions was designed to expel unwanted foetuses. It worked, but not without cost, and Bartholomew had been called out several times when a dose had made a patient very ill.
‘I did not have time for all that nonsense,’ Anne declared loftily. ‘I used a hook instead. I performed more than a hundred “special cleansings” and I was very good at it.’
He blinked: it was an enormous number. ‘Were you?’
She nodded, and there was pride in her voice. ‘I soaked the hook in holy water overnight, and in the morning I rubbed it with mint and rosemary. Then it was scratch, scratch’ – here she made the appropriate motion with her hands – ‘and it was all over.’
Bartholomew shuddered. ‘What happened with Suzanne? Was there a lot of bleeding?’
‘There was no bleeding at all, but she screamed a lot afterwards, which attracted attention.’
‘So your scraping hurt her?’
‘I do not believe so, but she was the daughter of a wealthy merchant and thus soft. The others I helped bore any pain more stoically. Afterwards, her outraged father sent her to a nunnery. Silly child! Her foolish shrieks destroyed us both.’
‘I saw that procedure conducted once by an Arab physician,’ recalled Bartholomew, ‘but only to save the mother. It did not work.’
‘Well, the ones I performed did, and I rescued many a careless girl from disaster. I am not sorry I helped them, but I am sorry it led to me being punished. Yet these things happen, and I am happy here. Come to talk to me again. You are nicer than Grym – he refuses to come anywhere near me.’
‘Why is that?’
She smiled again. ‘He is afraid he will catch my fondness for unorthodox medicine.’
‘What next?’ asked Bartholomew, when Michael had finished trying to entice the merchant to support Michaelhouse. ‘Back to the castle, to speak to the murderous Marishals?’
Michael nodded. ‘Although not with that attitude. It is better to keep an open mind.’
Bartholomew shrugged. ‘We know that Thomas slunk off alone when the squires returned to the castle. Perhaps he saw his mother meeting Roos in a peculiar place, assumed the worst and decided to defend the family honour.’
‘But Roos might be part of that family.’
Bartholomew shrugged a second time. ‘Kinship did not stop Thomas from killing Talmach if the rumours are true – perhaps with Ella’s help. And do not forget that Marishal himself was up and about at that time. Perhaps it was he who objected to the assignation.’
‘We shall bear it in mind, although we still have other contenders for the crime. For example, Nicholas has not eliminated himself to my satisfaction. He claims he celebrated nocturns here, but his alibi is Anne, who I suspect was in bed – she is not a woman to let religious obligations interfere with a good night’s sleep.’
‘Lichet is more likely to be the culprit than Nicholas. We only have his word that he was watching over the Lady all night – and that he just happened to be visiting the latrine when Adam found the bodies.’
‘But if Nicholas transpires to be innocent,’ Michael went on, ignoring him, ‘then I think we should look harder at the conveniently absent Bonde. Perhaps he killed Roos and Margery for reasons of his own, then decided to disappear until the fuss has died down.’